Coffee in Seville
by FlamingWolf
Summary: Robin has breakfast bought for her at a small Spanish cafe. PostFactory. Apologies in advance for any grammer mistakes in chapter 3. I kind of bluffed my way through my real trip to Spain, linguistically. Plus. it's 1:32 AM
1. Breakfast

Robin closed her eyes, leaning back in the chair as her weary mind tried to close itself down. She hurt. She was sick. Her contacts burned as brightly as her craft. She was subsisting on espresso, ice cream, and two hours of sleep every night. She knew she had to stop this.

But she was the hunted.

She sat quietly in the lobby of a hotel in Seville, the only sound that of her fingers clicking the keys of the computer as she typed. She had been run out of the room she had managed to scrape the money together for by the return of her partying roommates; three girls, their boyfriends, and a brother. She had endured teasing, and photographs taken of her ¨sleeping form. She had risen when they had left again, and gotten dressed, slipping out of the room, putting in her contacts as she walked down the hall. Her black skirt was tucked elegantly around her legs, and the short sleeveless blouse revealed the tan she had gotten while on the run. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, hanging now to halfway down her back.

Silently, she thanked Doujima for the few words of Spanish the girl had taught her during her time in Japan. Unfortunately, all she spoke fluently was Italian and Japanese, with Doujima´s Spanish phrases and some of Amon´s Arabic curses thrown in for good measure, which made her movements a lot more predictable to the STN.

A threat, am I? She thought wryly. The Arcana of the Craft? I'm starving in the streets of a country in which I can say ´please´, ´thank you´, and ´hello´. She chewed absently at her cuticles, a bad habit she had tried to break herself of for years.

Micheal! I can always learn English! That'll give me a few more countries to hide in! She looked towards the door, where a pay phone in the plaza a few streets away beckoned, then at the clock on the computer. She shivered slightly. She couldn't go out there. Not this early in the morning.

I am a coward. I am running from the most dangerous organization in the world, and I'm afraid to leave the hotel before dawn for fear of rapists and murderers. The idea that she had thought that struck her as funny, and she muffled her laughter. She had come a long way from being the innocent girl in the monastery, who would never have thought of the dangers, not knowing that they existed.

They took my naivety, as much as that-female!-upstairs took my sleep! She thought indignantly, not sure whether she meant the STN or the world in general. She stretched, and shoved away from the computer. No, she wouldn't bother Michael at this time of day, but she would go eat her ¨breakfast¨. She had to get away from this place.

The early morning traffic was just noisy enough to give her a comfortable feeling that there were others around, in case she needed assistance. Her boot heels clicked softly on the pavement. She almost laughed again as she realized that she turned seventeen in a month, exactly. And Amon…tonight had been Amon´s birthday.

"Aishiteru," She whispered to the street. "Many happy years ahead of you, my partner…my friend." She dared not say, even to herself, how she truly felt about him. Restlessly, she ran her fingers through her hair, wondering where he was, what he was doing tonight. If he had anyone with him…

She wandered into a tiny café, and sat, checking her tiny pouch. She had just enough change left to buy a bottle of water. Either she needed to find another job for the day, or wander the streets until she found enough euros to buy breakfast. If only she could risk settling down long enough to be able to support herself…

"Only a bottle of water, pretty lady?" A masculine voice teased her, flirtatiously. "Surely a little bird like you will waste away on such fare! Let me buy you a cup of coffee, at least."

Robin's body and nerves thrilled to the sound of that voice. It was Amons, only more carefree, younger sounding. And that nickname, the one adopted by her friends in the office. Her spirit singing, she looked up.

The man who stood before her had longish, dark hair, but it was tied back with a leather strap into a low ponytail. The brown eyes sparkled flirtatiously. He wore dark pants and boots, but a light, white, long sleeved shirt that looked like it would be cool, even in the hottest part of the day. The man looked remarkably like the partner she had just been thinking of, as though she had conjured him from the streets of Tokyo.

But this man looked younger, more jovial. Mischief shone in his eyes. This was an eighteen year old Amon, one who was still curious, who loved the world, and was not yet hardened and bitter. And he was speaking to her in Italian.

He sat, and she quietly agreed to his offer. Leaning back, he began to talk to her, easily, lightly, his banter bringing blushes to her cheeks, making her feel again like the inexperienced huntress who had left the STN post-Factory two years before. Her heart thrilled, and she had to keep reminding herself that it was not he, could never be Amon.

At last, her own eyes shining, but from suppressed tears, she rose to go, but the gentleman caught her hand.

"Alas, fair maiden. You have yet to tell me the name that accompanies such angelic features such as yours."

Robin choked back, as her lips tried to shout, "You know me, Amon! I am your Robin!"

Instead, she answered carefully,

"Me llama Rena."

"Ah, si, Señorita Rena. Y yo soy Allen." Charmingly, he smiled, and then switched back to Italian. "I hope to see you again tomorrow morning. Again, my treat. I enjoy talking with intelligent, beautiful women."

"I may be leaving for Madrid," She answered. "It was a pleasure. Good-bye, Allen."

&

Amon looked after the blonde girl as she moved off up the streets. He dropped the façade of this, his most recent persona, as he untied his hair and wiped the makeup from his scars. His heart constricted painfully. This was not Robin. He had to get over his pain.

But her mannerisms, her soft voice…

"You know me, Robin." He whispered. "I am your Amon."


	2. Revelations

Robin sighed as she sagged down onto the couch. She was safe now. She had managed to find a waitressing job, and was in a corridor that no one would think to look for her in. She had enough money to live on, and enough for a cup of coffee besides.

Idly, she thought of the stranger she had encountered a few days before. She wondered if he was a morning person, or if the man would be there this late in the day. Before she realized that she had made a decision, she had risen and moved out the front door.

There was no one there. She closed her eyes for a moment in a strange disappointment, then walked into the dark café, her eyes easily adapting from the sunlight. She sat at the back-most table, and smiled at the shop owner.

"Senorita?"

"Negro, por favor." She said, leaning back in the chair. The coffee came as requested, and she tipped the glass to the room. "Amon." She whispered, and leaned back to drink it.

The clock bell tolled in the back of the shop, reminding her of the time, and she finished her cup, left it on the table, along with her tip and payment, before heading down the street towards Seville's cathedral. She slipped into the side door, with the four or five older women who faithfully attended mass everyday, and knelt for a moment, before sliding back into the old pew and waiting. Exactly on time, the ancient priest entered the room in silence, accompanied by his alter boys. Robin bowed her head as she spoke the ritual phrases, in the language she was learning on the fly, reveling for a moment in the peace of Spain's holy ground, before raising her eyes to look at the beautifully ornamented chapel. For a moment, she allowed her mind to drift away from the mass long enough to wonder what mass had been like at the main alter reserved for the monarchy, before drawing her eyes back from the huge pipe organ into the (relatively) small chapel she now sat in.

Emerging from the chapel after mass, she walked along beside the wall and iron fence, her eyes scanning the gothic designs worked into the stone. Her eyes fell on the large tower that had once been part of the Muslim mosque. Without being sure why, she turned in and paid the money that was requested of tourists who came to tour the chapels of the main cathedral. She ducked inside, gazing up at the gilded altar, and sank into a genuflection before it, closed off as it was. She rose, crossing herself, and turned to see the tourists with their cameras staring at her. Looking to her left, she saw one old Spanish woman, who had also knelt before the iron gate. The woman glanced her way and nodded once, before completing her own Sign and rising to leave.

Robin found herself moving back towards the exit, before she saw a marriage party approaching through the door and heading into one of the old chapels that had once belonged to the nobility. She turned aside, not wanting to move through the bridal train, and found herself looking at the sloping ramp that led to the prayer tower. Tucking her black skirt tightly around her legs, she began to climb, stopping at each of the little 'shrines' that held treasures of the cathedral's august past.

By the thirty-second level, her legs were burning, and her hair had pulled out of its handlebars to hang around her face. Somewhere behind her, she could hear a child whining about the height of the climb, and she found herself abruptly surprised that she was climbing this tower, before being immediately ashamed. An old priest had climbed this tower daily to call the faithful to prayer when the Moors had occupied Spain, and schoolchildren and tourists climbed it daily. Massaging her leg for an instant, she resumed her climb.

The wind whipped around her, and sunlight caught at her blonde hair, rendering her for an instant back into the fire witch she had been for so much of her life. Beneath her, the city spread itself gloriously, and the roof of the cathedral stretched, beckoning her, calling her name…

"Robin. I see you made it." A voice said behind her. She turned, to see a woman in a spreading renaissance gown looking at her with soft, green eyes. Blonde hair was caught in a bun, and the hue of the dress was as black as midnight. For the first time, Robin realized that the tower was remarkably free of tourists, except for herself and this woman. "I wondered how long you would be."

"What are you?" Robin asked, then wondered at her own choice of phrasing. The woman laughed, delightedly.

"You are just as I had hoped, recognizing me from the first, for what I am." She crossed to Robin, and embraced her for an instant, then pulled away, turning Robin to look out over the city, specifically turning her attention to the plaza. Robin wrenched her eyes, away, again turning to look at the woman who guided her eyes.

"I cannot show you anything again. You are missing your lessons, Little Robin." The woman scolded gently. "I will explain after you have witnessed."

_A man feebly climbed the tower, his voice chanting across the city. Day after day he came, until at last he required the aid of a donkey to make his journey. A queen stood in the garden for a moment, looking after the departing man, before sinking to her knees, the words of her prayer not-quite reaching the soaring tower. A whore pounded at the cathedral gates, her voice carrying, rising to meet Robin,_

"_Sanctuary, sanctuary!"_

_Lovers embraced, praying fervently that God find some way to save them. A girl prayed to escape the fires. A woman and her husband thanked God for the birth of their son, asking for a long life and health for the child. A man rejoiced in his marriage to his beautiful wife. A widow thanked God that her husband's suffering was over. Faith and prayer resounded, and one voice called out to Robin from the courtyard fountain…_

"_And bring us your new chosen, the one who will save all of the children you gave these powers to. We ask this through Christ the Lord…"_

Robin whirled, her eyes frantically searching the woman's face. Unruffled, the woman smiled at her. "You see? Witches have been God's people since this cathedral was built. They left imprints of themselves here, and all of them wished for God to send them the Eve to help them, the one who would show them how to use their power, to help them understand what God wants of them. Eve, you and Adam were sent to be the one they have prayed for at this cathedral, not to hunt them. Find Adam. Train the witches to control their crafts, to use their power to help the humans God has not granted power to."

"And in the meantime, get a cup of coffee, my sister. You look like you need it."


	3. Reunion

Robin staggered down the stairs, her mind reeling from the encounter she had just had with her other self. She wasn't sure when she had realized who the woman dressed in black was, but suddenly she just…knew.

_Amon, the Adam of witches? Impossible! He hates them. And what am I supposed to do, go looking for him when I don't know where he is? Well, if I knew, I wouldn't have to look, but I don't even know which country he's in._

_Allen…he reminds me so much of Amon. Maybe he knows the same kind of contacts, and would be able to help me find him…_

She wasn't even sure when she made the decision for certain, but she found herself sitting in the same dark coffee shop with a black coffee on the table before her. She continued to muse on options, until the shop keeper (so much like Harry…why did she hurt so much to think of Japan? Italy was home!) approached to see if there was anything else the senorita required.

"That young man who bought me breakfast when I was in here that time-Allen?- how often is he in here?" She asked desperately, in an odd combination of Italian and Spanish that the two of them had worked out and understood surprisingly well.

"Oh, that one?" The old man laughed. "You could do much better than a womanizer like him! Isn't a morning he's not in here with some new blonde!"

"I see…" Obscurely, that hurt. Robin shook her head. "No interesan en un novio. Quiero informacion. Donde ere el?"

"Madrid. Salio a la semana pesada."

"Gracias…" That hurt even more. So he had already left. "Donde en Madrid?"

"I heard tell that he was seen around the Plaza del Sol," He answered in Italian.

Without even being sure of _why_, Robin knew she had a journey to make.

&

And so it was that Robin found herself staring out the window of a bus at the city of Seville. Oddly, though she had only been in this city a month or so, tears were standing in her eyes, and she held the hot coffee to her lips, enjoying the aroma, not sipping. So much had happened there...

_I'm bing pulled in two directions. Half of me wants to stay in that city forever, and the other half is being pulled...somewhere. I'm heading for something...and it feels better. I'm leaving pain...Oh, Amon, I wish I could talk to you._

She shook her head, wondering when she had become so dependent on the partner who had never seemed to care at all...

Robin shook her head. She had too much to worry about as it was, without getting homesick for Japan. _I spent only a short while in both Japan and Seville, certainly not long enough to get attached to either. So why do I feel like either one is more like home than Italy was?_

Forcefully, she forced the pain from her mind and looked back at the city of Seville, raising her cup of coffee to toast the city that had altered her view so drastically,before turning to the bleak gray and brown hilly landscape of a country in a drought.

&

"No, we've not had any more reports of fire craft in Spain, other than housewives lighting candles and old gas stoves. Signor Allen, we'll let you know if and when we encounter a fire craft user of the magnitude you've described. _Please_ be patient." The woman behind the desk sighed as she surveyed the handsome, dark haired man who stood across from her. For a moment, she allowed her professionalism to slip enough to think, _I wouldn't mind taking __this one home. Maybe I should transfer to HQ..._

Magdalena wondered who this girl was, and why headquarters was so interested in her that an agent with an all-clearance pass would show up at the STN-E's door, asking about this Senorita Sena, much less a man this _handsome_! And the man was back about once a week to ask for more information. She sighed rather regretfully as the rather taciturn young hunter turned on his heel and walked towards the door, with a casually confidant swagger that could (and probably did) break hearts.

"So who is this girl, anyway?" She asked, expecting to be rebuffed with a "headquarters' business". Instead, he actually paused mid stride, and answered slowly,

"My partner. We were separated, and I believe that she may need some help. I want to find her again."

"Don't they have the non-fraternization policy in Italy?" Magdalena grumbled under her breath. Allen's ears were better than she had thought, for her replied to her comment with a low, sardonic,

"I never follow the rules."

&

Amon swore softly as he paced back and forth across the Plaza del Sol, watching the workers erecting the small stage for the night's performance. Some American pop band was going to be there, and he really didn't want to be there when the fangirls showed up. But he couldn't go back to his rooms, not with his mind as worried as it was. He glanced up at the elegant buildings rising above him, Espana moderna, and the heart of the city. The balconies gleamed red in the setting sun, and his black clothing attracted a lot of stares, even though it was June and barely in the seventies. His eyes traced the tourist shops, and he ducked to the western side of the Plaza and into the small cafe for a cup of coffee.

_Anything to get me out of this madhouse. _He thought, lifting his tail away from the back of his neck and leaned back. _And I wish my Spanish were better. I thought he was asking me for a toothpick. Maybe I _should_ have sent Doujima. She at least speaks the language._

His mind abandoned that thought as he sat up, nearly spilling the hot beverage into his lap. His mind was playing tricks with him again...he could swear he felt powerful fire craft, and _close_.

It wasn't an illusion. He could tell that much, even as the screams erupted outside in the Plaza.

&

Robin found herself emerging from the metro in a small island between two especially busy streets. Gathering her courage (and her long skirts), she followed a young couple as they dashed across between lines of cars. She sighed inwardly, once more wishing she were in the quieter, more genteel Seville.

Feeling more drained than even her sojourn in the coffee shop after the loud party of her roommates, she dropped into Pans and Co for a sandwich and a couple of cookies ("Best in the world," as the shopkeeper honestly assured her), to replenish her blood sugar levels. _I shouldn't be doing this. I need to find lodging and a job._ She scolded herself, reminded that she was getting low on Euros again.

However, sunset in Madrid wasn't something that one could be worried through, and she wandered through the Plaza, munching happily on her cookie.

There was no warning. None at all. One moment, she was watching the bustle with interest (openly gawking at the woman who covered herself with mud and posed as a statue with a cup at her feet as a tourist attraction), the next someone screamed something at her about "foreign interloper", as a heavy piece of wood was levitated from the stage and hurled at her.

Robin unleashed the craft she had kept in hiding for months, incinerating the board before it struck her. A woman in the crowd nearby screamed, setting off a general panic.

"Senorita, cuidado!" Someone shouted, and she turned to see another piece flying at her head, and she knew that this time, she couldn't call the fires fast enough.

&

She hit the ground hard, with only an impression of pale skin and black clothing. The wood crashed inches to her right, and she was hauled to her feet. "Damn your eyes, run!" Amon snarled, grabbing her by the wrist, and yanking her behind him. She could only stare in astonishment at him, hardly daring to believe he was there. He caught the third and final piece of the stage with a sudden updraft of wind, cursing the necessity of having to use his own craft to protect not only himself, but his partner. Within moments, he had yanked the hidden orbo gun free and used it, inwardly wincing as he realized just how few orbo bullets he had left, now that Factory had been destroyed.

Catching her by the arm, he ran with her, until they burst free of the crowds on the street Robin had crossed a few minutes ago. Pulling out a card, he handed it to her.

"Deja vu," He muttered, handing it to her. "Go to this address. They'll take care of you for me. I need to see about a few things."

She looked at him with round wide eyes. "You're going already?" _I just got you back!_

"I have to." He said, then realized something, and tugged her a few more steps to her right. She looked at him, confused, but also very hurt that he was leaving already. "Amon..."

"Do you know where we are?" He interrupted. She shook her head. He allowed a rare smile to cross his lips. "This is the heartstone of Spain. They say that if you step here, you will be drawn back to this spot some day." Robin continued to look baffled. Amon leaned in, and held her near for a brief moment. "Remember. We stood on this spot _together_."

With those words, he turned and melted into the crowd.


End file.
